


The Listener's Keeper

by SabiTheRunt



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Age Difference, Cicero being Cicero, Cicero is the best, Everyone is of age so relax, F/M, Sweet rolls, we're all adults here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-10-27 08:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17763263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SabiTheRunt/pseuds/SabiTheRunt
Summary: "My apologies," Cicero said. "I did not realize I was in the presence of a member of the Brotherhood."It was meant as a joke. Such a little thing wouldn't have a clue what he was talking about, but then he saw a flash of recognition in her eyes. Her gaze darted to his armor, his dagger, the corpse of her assailant, and finally back at him."Brother," the little Kahjiit said, barely above a whisper.His eyes widened but so did his smile.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my very first fanfic so please go easy on me. I hope it turns out ok but I can't guarantee how often I will be able to update. I own nothing except the original characters. Anyways I am really nervous but I hope you enjoy.

                  **Greetings Sister**

  Cicero quietly stalked the deserted alleyway, the muffle spell placed on his boots making detection near impossible. He was silent, deadly, and with purpose. He'd been tracking his latest contract for nearly two hours, waiting for the precise moment to strike.  
  Ahead of him, the Altmer mage swayed drunkenly back and forth causing the assassin to nearly chuckle to himself. The poor fool had no idea death was approaching. It would be sad if it wasn't so funny.  
  Cicero shifted his weight, careful not to make a sound, and began to stride forward. His blade was once more ready to taste flesh, to send another soul to the Dark Lord. Coiled like a deadly snake, ready to strike, Cicero inched forward.  
  Out of nowhere, a scream rang out from a nearby backstreet. Cicero froze, blade merely inches from his target. He looked at the mage but the sod hadn't moved. Once more the assassin raised his dagger, prepared to strike, and once more he was made to freeze. Another scream, louder this time.  
_It almost sounds like a child._  
  Cicero cocked his head as more screams flooded through the dark alleys. Whomever it was, it was most unlikely anyone would care to help, especially in this area of the city. He almost pitied the poor soul but dismissed these thoughts. It was no concern of his. He had a contact to complete and a purpose to fulfill.  
  He frowned. Why was he still standing here? Why hadn't he done the deed? And why the hell was he feeling such an urgent need to investigate what was going on? He was a highly trained assassin for Sithis' sake! Not some do-gooder vigilante!  
  Stifling a growl of irritation, Cicero sprung into action. Faster than lighting he had one gloved hand over the old mage's mouth, the other drawing the ebony dagger across his throat. The assassin felt a twinge of regret at not being able to savor the kill fully but he would have to be satisfied with simply knowing he had done his job.  
  Duty done, Cicero sheathed his blade and turned, making his way hurriedly through the maze of back alleys, following the commotion and the echoes of crying. He was lithe and quick and he knew he was getting closer when he heard another scream for help. This time he was certain the cries were from a child and he picked up his pace, careful not to give himself away.  
  Just then, as he was beginning to round the next corner, he heard an angry shout from someone other than the child, followed by a blood curdling shriek of pure agony. Cicero felt his heart thunder in his chest, why he wasn't sure, nothing shook him, but for some strange reason he actually felt worry and worse, fear.  
  He turned the corner and felt his blood run cold. Ahead of him was a large Argonian male, his scales a horrid greenish black, drunkenly brandishing a knife, and the source of the screaming, a small Khajiit child. The brute had the tiny thing hoisted up against a nearby wall and was hissing curses at her. And there was blood, quite a bit of it, but Cicero could not tell where it was coming from.  
  Cicero saw red. White hot rage filled his entire body and without a second thought he was racing forward, dagger drawn and ready for the taste of more blood. Without any hesitation he buried his blade at the base of the Argonian's skull, severing the beast's spinal cord. There was no sound, no crying out, just the sound of the large oaf's body hitting the ground. Cicero grinned. Two souls in one night, how pleased his Dark Father must be.  
  Pulling his dagger free, Cicero rolled the corpse over, catching sight of a set of claw marks across the lizard's face. He smirked. It looked as if the cat had fought back. He kicked the body away, then turned his attention on the frightened child that was huddling against the wall.  
  She was a tiny little thing, a runt really, with pitch black fur darker than the void. Her piercing blue eyes were like twin daggers, causing the assassin to pause. It lasted but a moment though once he noticed her bloodstained skirts. He quickly searched for the source and felt his stomach turn once he found it.  
  The small child's tail, barely holding on by a piece of flesh. He could tell immediately it wasn't salvageable but the poor thing would most likely bleed to death before she could reach help.  
  Acting quickly, Cicero ripped off his hood, not caring she would see his face, before stripping off his upper armor. He hastily used his dagger to cut the fabric into strips, wadding up most of it and placing it over the wound. The small Khajiit hissed in pain and made to move away but Cicero held tight.  
  "Stop," he commanded, voice dropping low. "Do as I say or otherwise you will bleed to death."  
  The child paused and stared at him. His tone brooked no argument and slowly she nodded.  
  His lip twitched slightly and he changed his tone to be slightly gentler.  
  "Good. Now I need you to put pressure on the wound for me. Just like I am. We have to slow the blood flow."  
  Again the child nodded, her tiny hands coming up and replacing his. She whimpered but held her tail tightly, just as Cicero instructed. He nodded before taking another strip of fabric and tying a tourniquet just below the injury. He tightened it as much as possible before taking the last bit of fabric and rolling it into a ball. He then held it in front of her. She stared at him confused and he sighed.  
  "Open your mouth," he commanded. She tilted her head and began to protest. "Now!" He snapped. His sharp tone caused her to jump but she obeyed and opened her mouth, sharp fangs glinting in the moonlight. He placed the ball in her mouth, instructing her to hold on to it. He then pulled out his dagger and her eyes went wide.  
  "Don't look, little one."  
  Her eyes slammed shut immediately and she pressed her face into her knees. He felt his stomach knot as he gingerly brushed her hands away from her tail. He didn't like this but there weren't really any other options.   Praying to Sithis that this worked, he gripped the tail tightly, just below where it was still holding together, and cleanly cut the last bit of flesh, severing her tail completely  
  Immediately he dropped his dagger and caught the tiny child as she lurched forward. She struggled weakly against him but he held her tight, listening to her muffled cries of pain. She shook violently and he knew she was going into shock. Hurriedly he placed one hand over the fresh wound and began casting a small healing spell. He wasn't the most proficient in magic but he knew enough to get by. Finally he felt a swell of relief as he felt the skin start to mend and heal.  
  Releasing her, he fished out a small health potion and uncorked it. She didn't have the strength to take it so Cicero held her chin and pressed it to her lips. He almost smiled when he felt her begin to lap at it, slowly drinking it down. Several minutes passed but it finally seemed to kick in and the youngster started to stir.  
  She shifted, her newly bobbed tail flicking widely, and she stared at it curiously. Cicero had to stifle a laugh at her bewildered expression. She looked up to him, eyeing him cautiously before dropping her gaze to the ground.  
  The assassin began to stand, he had been exposed for to long, and gathered up what was left of his shirt. This was going to be tough to explain to Rasha but he doubted it would matter much seeing as how he had completed his contract successfully. The devil was in the details. Turning to leave though, something caught his eye.  
  Cicero's breath caught in his throat. Dangling off a chain situated around the child's neck was an amulet of Sithis. He quickly dropped down and took it between his fingers, watching the moonlight dance off it. These were very rare, even among the Brotherhood. His own had been a gift from a dear friend during his first days as an initiate. He looked up at the child, her bright blues eyes almost familiar, and then back at the amulet.He twisted it this way and that until a small inscription caught his eye.  
_Hail Sithis!_  
  Two simple words and yet they held more meaning than anyone could possibly know. This had once belonged to his friend, his dark sister, Baset. He looked up at the youngster once more and he could see it. He could see that familiar feralness, that sharpness he remembered her for. This child must be hers.  
  Another revelation hit him. Not only was this little girl Baset's child, but she must also be the reason Baset fled in the first place. A million different emotions went through him at once. How could Baset not have told him? Surely she could trust him. The Brotherhood was not known for having children in their ranks but it was not unheard of. Surely Baset knew the child would have been well cared for, loved even, and would not have wanted for anything. She most certainly wouldn't have been attacked by some drunken slob.  
  Cicero shook his head. He needed to speak to Baset himself before he said anything to Rasha. But that would be for later. For now he needed to make sure the child was safely returned to her mother.  
  Suddenly he realized the little girl was staring at him with open curiosity. He grinned, releasing her necklace, and sat back down.  
  "My apologies," he said. "I did not realize I was in the presence of a member of the Brotherhood."  
  It was meant as a joke. Such a little thing wouldn't have a clue what he was talking about, but then he saw a flash of recognition in her eyes. Her gaze darted to his armor, his dagger, the corpse of her assailant, and finally back at him.  
 "Brother," she said, barely above a whisper.  
His eyes widened but so did his smile.  
  "Greetings Sister. Tell me, what are you doing out here al-..."  
  He didn't get to finish his sentence because the little ball of fluff barreled into him and hugged him tight. Her little arms were wound around him and she was muttering so quickly he couldn't understand what she was saying. He did manage to pick out 'thank you' in the jumble of words and he gently patted her head. After a few moments he extracted himself from her hold and he stood.  
  "Anything for a fellow sibling," he told her. She smiled and clambered to her feet. She wobbled a little but she would be okay. She was healed for the most part, at least physically. He fixed her with a stern gaze. "You should be going home. I'm sure your mother is worried sick."  
  Her gaze shifted to the corpse nearby before she looked back at him.  
  "You're right," she agreed softly. "Thank you again.”  
 As she started to leave, Cicero stopped her briefly and placed a gloved finger against his lips.  
  “Let us keep our meeting between the two of us,” he told her. He couldn't risk Baset knowing he was looking for her. “It will be our little secret.”  
  The child grinned up at him before nodding. He made a shooing motion and she giggled before turning and running off. Cicero waited a moment or so and then began to follow her. He told himself it was only so that he could track down his wayward Sister, but he was lying to himself. After everything she had just been through he wanted to be sure she made it home safe.  
  Suddenly he stopped. Something was off. Quickly he reached for where he kept his coin pouch and found it missing. He grinned. Although he had just lost a hundred septims, Cicero couldn’t bring himself to be angry. She was most definitely Baset’s daughter.  
  Chuckling to himself, Cicero quickly began walking after the little cat. He slid into the darkness once more, and disappeared into the shadows.


	2. A Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Already posting the next chapter. I just want to say thank you to everyone has been reading so far. I hope you are enjoying it. Again thank you so much

Sabi sat on the floor of the foyer, idly playing with her doll. She was waiting for her mother to finish sweeping so that they could retire to their room. Baset hurried about, making sure everything was spic and span so that her employer would have no reason to complain in the morning.

She glanced down at her daughter, who was shifting around impatiently, and sighed. Her daughter had been restless for the past few months and even though she knew the cause there was little Baset could do to help. It pained her to be so powerless but unfortunately that was the way things were.

Suddenly, Baset's sharp hearing caught the distinct sound of leather boots sliding against the floor. She stopped sweeping and straightened, ears twitching and eyes searching the darkness.They were not alone of that she was certain.The only question was if their uninvited guest was friend or foe. Another noise, this time though it was the sound of a dagger being pulled from its sheath. Foe then.

Baset felt the air shift around her. Lighting fast she spun around, holding up her broom just has a sharpened dagger came flying towards her. She jolted a bit from the force but held fast. She stood still, poised and ready, waiting for a follow up attack but it never came. Two heartbeats. Then three. Nothing. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the shadows but she saw no one. Her ears strained and she heard quiet breathing.

“Show yourself,” she hissed. Silence, and then a soft chuckle.

“It's good to see you aren't completely out of practice,” came a deep voice. A figure slid from the shadows. Baset took in the familiar black and red armor and her eyes widened. “How have you been, Sister?”

Baset dropped the broom, frozen in shock. After all these years, the Brotherhood had finally caught up to her. But why now? Her gaze flew to her daughter, who had taken the opportunity during the confusion to hide behind her. Sabi's tiny paws clenched Baset's skirt and she buried her face in the folds. She glanced back and forth between the assassin and her daughter, dread filling her. Did they know?

She shook her head. That wasn't possible. There was no way that they could know. Because it wasn't true. Couldn't be true. Sabi was just imagining things.

Baset looked back up to see the assassin watching the two of them curiously. Whomever the Black Hand had sent, he wasn't there to kill her. If he was, she would already be dead. She supposed she should thank Sithis for small mercies. She patted her daughter's head reassuringly.

“Brother,” she said quietly, keeping her voice even so as not to betray her fear, “ what brings you here?”

She locked eyes with him, sensing something familiar about him. His eyes were a dark amber color and his gaze was intense. He huffed for a moment as if unsure of his response before slowly pulling off his hood. Baset's eyes widened at the sight of familiar blood red hair pulled back in a ponytail, pale skin, sharp Imperial features, and a razor sharp grin.

“Cicero!”

* * *

 Cicero couldn't help but smirk back at his old friend. She clearly hadn't been expecting him to show up. It had taken longer than he had hoped before he had been prepared to confront her but so much had happened in the last few months. The lost of Alisanne Dupre, The Black Hand naming him Keeper. It was all so much and he had scarcely been able to process it all. But that was why he was here now. It was time for Baset to come home and by Sithis he was not going to leave until she agreed to come with him.

“It's been a long time, old friend,” he said, thoughts returning to the task at hand. “I trust you have been well.”

Baset shifted, gaze never leaving him. It was obvious she was uncertain of his motives. It was also clear she did not trust him. He supposed he could understand, even if it hurt knowing she no longer saw him as a Brother.

“As well as can be expected,” she replied. “Things have been quite peaceful these last few years though, so I cannot complain.”

Cicero nodded, before his attention turned to the small child hiding behind Baset's skirt. She peeked out shyly and her eyes widened in recognition. He winked at her and she giggled.

“I am assuming the little runt is yours,” Cicero stated and Baset glared, eyes piercing him like daggers, but unlike years before there was no fire behind it.

It suddenly dawned on him how much she had aged in just the span of a few years. Her once vibrant orange fur had faded and was beginning to gray. Her once bright eyes had dulled and tired. This was not the wild, deadly assassin he had once known. The woman who stood before him was now nothing more than a tired mother trying to get by to provide for her child. Cicero suddenly wondered if this was as good an idea as he had thought it may be. Baset narrowed her gaze suspiciously. Oh well, too late now.

“This is my Sabi,” Baset told him, and though her voice was soft it held the slightest hint of a threat Not one to be easily intimidated though, Cicero merely smiled before lowering himself onto one knee. It was a risky move but Baset remained where she was. Even now she wouldn't dare break one of the tenets. Perhaps there was hope after all.

Cicero turned his gaze back onto the little girl, who had peeked out a bit further. Sabi. Quite a fitting name for one with fur as black as the void. He grinned at her and she slowly moved even further from behind her mother. Brave too it seemed.

“Hello, Sabi,” he greeted her, stretching out his hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Sabi giggled shyly before running at him. He caught her easily and felt her arms wrap around his neck. He patted her back carefully, eyes falling to her little stubbed tail. It had healed well and was flickering widely to Cicero's great amusement. Baset cleared her throat loudly and Sabi quickly released him, scampering back to her mother's side

“Sabi dear,” Baset addressed her. “ Go to the kitchen and fetch our guest a snack. Perhaps a sweetroll if there are any left from Lady Amiel's luncheon.”

“But Mama,” the little girl began to protest but immediately quited after a stern look from her mother. “Yes Mama.” With that, Sabi quickly barreled off into the nearby kitchen.

Once they were alone, Baset whirled on him, moving quickly she caught him off guard. Before he could do anything to defend himself she had him pressed against the wall, his own dagger blade flat across his throat.

“What in Sithis’ name are you doing here,” she hissed. Cicero smiled ruefully. Perhaps not all of her fire had been snuffed out.

* * *

Sabi shuffled about the kitchen, hunting for leftover snacks from the luncheon the pretty Altmer lady had hosted earlier today. Most people looked down on Sabi and her mother, but the elderly widow had been very kind to them and Sabi liked her.

Finally the little Kahjiit spotted a tray of desserts atop the nearby counter. Unfortunately it was firmly out of her reach. Scrambling about, Sabi quickly grabbed a chair to boost herself up. She clambered up and began gathering an array of cookies, candies, and one lone sweet roll. Satisfied with her bounty she started to climb down when she heard a loud thump.

Startled she ended up dropping her prize managing only to save the sweet roll. She stared forlornly at the ruined sweets on the ground before sighing and heading back to the foyer. She could clean up her mess later.

Traipsing down the hall, Sabi stopped when she heard angry whispering. She slid against the wall, peeking around the corner, only to find her mother holding a dagger to their strange visitor's throat. She almost stepped forward before she realized that the Imperial didn't seem fazed at all. In fact he was smiling.

Sabi watched them for a moment, holding her breath. Mama wouldn't hurt him, that would break the rules. And the rules, or tenets as Mama called them, were never to be broken.

_Fear not child. My Keeper can look after himself._

Sabi sucked in a deep breath. She was hearing that voice again. The voice Mama told her to ignore and never listen to. But what her mother didn't realize was that the more she ignored it, the more insistent it became.

Sabi shook her head. Mama had released the man but still held the dagger. The man, Cicero, just continued to grin.

“Wipe that smile off your face,” Baset told him. “You look like a madman.” Cicero just smiled wider.

“I am only smiling because I'm so pleased to see you Sister,” he replied.

Baset grimaced before tossing him his dagger. He caught it gracefully, sheathing it at his side. Baset crossed her arms over her chest, sizing him up.

“Don't call me that,” she said. “I am not a member of the Brotherhood any longer.”

Cicero frowned.

“We both know that isn't true,” he told her. “You are bound to the Dread Father, just as I am, forever.” He fixed her with an intense gaze. “Whether you want to admit to it or not.”

“What are you even doing in Cheydinhal? You should be in Bruma,” Baset snapped. “Did Balder send you? I should have known the old Nord wouldn't just let me go. I’m just surprised it took this long to find me.”

She stopped. Cicero's expression had turned dark and Sabi frowned. What Mama said had clearly upset him.

“Bruma is...no more,” Cicero said. He sighed sadly. “The sanctuary was destroyed. I am the only one who survived. For whatever reason, Sithis spared me.”

Baset gasped before rushing forward and wrapping Cicero in a hug. He didn't reciprocate. Sabi wanted to hug him too, she liked Cicero, but she didn't want Mama to know she was eavesdropping. As Lady Amiel always said, it was unbecoming of a young lady.

“I'm so sorry, Cicero,” Baset said. “I can't believe it. I hate you had to go through that alone.”

Cicero pushed her away, his eyes dark, lip curled in a snarl.

“Spare me your pity,” he nearly spat. “You have no idea what the Brotherhood has been through.” Cicero began pacing angrily, running a hand through is hair, causing it to come free and fall about wildy. “Wayrest has been lost as well. And the Sanctuary in Corinthe has been closed. There are only two Dark Brotherhood Sanctuaries left in all of Tamriel. To make matters more dire, Alisanne Dupre is dead.”

Baset gasped and her gaze flew to the hallway where Sabi was hiding. The child quickly flattened herself against the wall to avoid detection and breathed out a small sigh of relief when her Mother turned back around.

“But that would mean that the Brotherhood…”

“Is without a Listener,” Cicero finished for her, his eyes cold.

_Go to him, my child._

Sabi shook her head. She wasn't supposed to listen to the voice, only to Mama. Usually she could ignore it but this time it persisted

_Go to him. Tell him ‘Darkness rises when silence dies.’_

Sabi tilted her head in confusion. The voice was almost urgent, as if these words held great importance.

_They do child. My children need you to guide them. You must tell Cicero. Now my little one, before it is too late._

Sabi started to move forward but stopped. No. Mama had told her never to listen to the voice. She wasn't going to disobey her mother. Taking a deep breath, Sabi did her best to drown the voice out. Mama knew what was best.

“What will happen to the Brotherhood?” Baset asked. “And the Night Mother, wasn't Alisanne protecting her crypt?”

“The Night Mother is safe,” Cicero told her and Sabi saw her mother visibly relax. “The Black Hand has decided to resurrect the ancient practice of appointing a Keeper.”

“Things must be quite dire,” Baset said. “ I pity whomever they choose.”

Cicero smiled ruefully.

“It is an esteemed position, and one I am honored to take on. Even if it means I shall never raise my blade again.”

Baset stared at him and shook her head.

“I see you have matured quite a lot since last we met,” she told him. “Why are you here then? Should you not be at the Sanctuary?’’

“I have one last contract to complete,” he replied. Her mother stepped back. “It isn't you Baset.” Cicero chuckled slightly. “A jester by the name of R'zakar Amanrin. Do you know him? “

“I know of him,” she stated. “I know he's a mad man who drinks too much Skooma. But that's it.”

Cicero nodded and then turned to stare down the hall. His golden eyes pierced right through her and he smiled.

“You are very good at hiding Sabi,” he called out, “but you need to learn to breathe quieter.”

Sabi blushed. Slowly she moved from the shadows and went to her mother's side. She held up the sweet roll and Cicero took it, tearing it in half, before handing one slice back to her. She smiled up at him before taking a large bite, savoring the yummy treat. Baset looked at her, gaze stern and she smiled sheepishly back. She was in trouble and she knew it.

She glanced at Cicero, and once more she heard the voice urging her to speak the odd words to him. She didn't though, couldn't. Mama would never allow it.

“Cicero, I am sorry, for everything,” Baset said softly. “I really am. But it doesn't change anything. I'm not an assassin anymore. I'm not going back. I hope you can forgive me.”

Cicero sighed and stared at the two of them for a long moment. He shook his head before turning away. Sabi made to go after him but her mother stopped her with a shake of her head.

“You will always be my Sister,” Cicero told her, turning back around. “I know nothing I say will change your mind, but I had to try. I only wish you luck, and offer you this simple warning. The agents of Sithis are under attack and whether you stand with us or not matters little to our enemies. Be safe, my friend.” His gaze fell on Sabi and he flashed her a smile that did not quite meet his eyes. “Farewell Sabi, may the Dread Father guide you.”

With that, Cicero pulled his hood back on, gave them one last nod then disappeared into the shadows.

_Go after him child! Hurry!_

Sabi shook her head violently. Never before had the voice been so insistent, so commanding. It certainly never yelled at her before. But that was exactly what was happening now and it was causing Sabi's head to hurt.

It was becoming louder and Sabi covered her ears in hope to muffle it, to no avail. It wouldn't let up, wouldn't cease. Sabi could barely make out her mother calling her name but the voice was drowning her out. Sabi hit her knees.

“Stop,” she pleaded to the voice. “Please stop!”

As expected her pleas did not work, in fact it only made things worse. Her mother held her, trying to calm her, but the voice just continued. Sabi felt her mother grasp her face, shoving a cube of sugar in her mouth.

The young Kahjiit pushed backwards out of surprise, confused by her mother's actions. Though as the cube melted, Sabi began to hear the voice fade and a slow euphoria trickled through her. She felt light and happy. Slowly but surely the voice quited and then silenced all together.

“Mama,” the girl said, trying her hardest to form words though her tongue felt heavy. Mama just shushed her and lifted Sabi into her arms.

“Hush my Sabi,” Mama whispered. “Things will look better in the morning.” Sabi smiled, closing her eyes. She nuzzled into her Mama's chest and fell into a deep slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! I hope everyone enjoyed that. I don't know when I will be updating but I promise I will be doing my best to get another chapter out soon. Please comment if you are liking it so far. See you soon!


	3. A Chance Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished up this chapter. I really hope the next chapter doesn't take so long. In the meantime I hope you enjoy this one.

  **Chapter 3**

 Cold. Oh, how Sabi despised the cold. She didn't understand how the people of Skyrim put up with it. It was absolutely awful. She honestly could not recall a time since she'd come to this wild country when she hadn't felt half frozen. Even her thick black fur provided little protection from the harsh winds.

 Shivering, she pulled her worn out cloak tighter around herself. How she longed for a roaring fire and a blanket to snuggle underneath. The Pale was much colder than the Rift and Sabi wondered why she had even bothered to come this far north.

 She sighed. She knew why. Sabi was a hunter and she had decided to follow one of the larger deer herds this season. More opportunity, and it had paid off. She clutched her coin purse, heavy with Septims. Yes, she had made a pretty penny selling her kills to the folks of Whiterun. A lucrative venture indeed.

 Sabi peered up forlornly at the darkening sky. She'd have to make camp soon. A storm was coming. She could smell it on the wind. Sabi cursed. She should turn around and go back to Whiterun, spend a night at the Drunken Huntsman. She could purchase a horse in the morning and be back in Riften before Fredas.

"Aagh! Bother and befuddle! Stuck here! Stuck! My mother, my poor mother. Unmoving. At rest, but too still!”

 Sabi jumped, nearly stumbling over the edge of her cloak. She hadn't really been paying attention to the road ahead, and the sudden screeching had startled her. She glanced up the road, not taking long for her to discover the source of the commotion. Just ahead, standing in the middle of the road, was a man clothed in black and red jester motley, raving like a lunatic as he circled a wagon with a large crate strapped on the back if it. A very odd site indeed.

 The young Khajiit tilted her head, eyeing the spectacle curiously. Sabi hadn't seen a jester since she was a little girl living in Cheydinhal. What in Oblivion would one be doing in Skyrim? She groaned inwardly, already feeling curiosity getting the better of her.

 She approached the strange man slowly. Sabi had no idea what to make of him but his odd display had piqued her interest. She was still a few feet from him when he whirled around to face her. Sabi froze in place, gulping when she saw the ebony dagger in his hand, sharp and menacing. Perhaps approaching him hadn’t been a good idea. He studied her for a moment, taking in her ragged appearance. She only wore the skimpy dress that the barmaid in Riften had given her and her large hooded cloak. He eyed her appreciatively before sheathing his weapon

“Um, is everything alright?” She asked him, voice wavering ever so slightly.

“Poor Cicero is stuck! Can’t you see?” He cried, his shrill voice causing her to wince. He turned back towards his wagon, wringing his hands. “I was transporting my dear, sweet mother. Well, not her. Her corpse! She’s quite dead.” The strange jester cackled, as if he had made a joke, and Sabi winced. His high pitch was starting to give her a headache.

Gritting her teeth she watched as the man, Cicero, patted the crate gently, speaking to it in soft, soothing tones. Now that he was standing still, Sabi could finally get a good look at him. He was short, even for an Imperial, but Sabi was Suthay and so he was actually quite a bit taller than her. He had long, dark red hair that fell across his broad shoulders like a river of blood, proud imperial features, and goldish amber eyes, with dark circles underneath them. Sabi had to admit he was rather handsome. The sight of him though didn’t intrigue her nearly as much as his scent.

It was an odd mix of musk, citrus, nightshade, and...blood? But not animal blood, human blood. All of that, mixed with his intimidating presence, brought one word to the forefront of her mind.

_Danger._

 Sabi was pulled from her observations though when Cicero turned his attention back to her. On instinct the Khajiit took a step back, putting distance between her and the odd man.

“Um, might…” Sabi's voiced trembled, “might I ask why you're transporting your dead mother across Skyrim?”

“Because,” Cicero told her as if the answer should be obvious. “I'm taking mother to a new home. A new crypt. But..” He stopped, anger flashing in his eyes, before stomping back to the wagon. “Wagon wheel! Damnedest wagon wheel! It broke! Can’t you see?”

Cicero kicked the offending wheel. The wagon shook slightly from the force and the jester immediately ran to the side to check on the crate. He fussed over the box for a moment, making sure it hadn't been damaged, stroking it lovingly as if it was the most important thing in the world. Sabi felt genuine pity for the man. Despite being a bit mad, he was obviously devoted to his late mother. Unfortunately she had no clue how to fix a wagon wheel.

“Is there someway I can help?” Sabi asked. Cicero whirled around, grinning from ear to ear, madness dancing in his eyes.

“Oh, yes! Yes!” He laughed before beginning to dance merrily in the middle of the road. Sabi tried very hard but she couldn't help giggle a little at his antics. He skipped towards her, stopping short just a few inches. “Yes, the kindly Khajiit can certainly help! Go to the farm- the Loreius Farm. Just over there, off the road.” Cicero made a show of gesturing in the direction of said farm. Sabi huffed a little.

 ‘'I see it,” she told him. “It's not easy to miss.” Cicero chuckled.

“Talk to Loreius. He has tools! He can help me! But he won't! He refuses!” His expression changed from giddy to almost murderous. Sabi blanched at the sudden venom. This Cicero fellow was quite mercurial and it was throwing her off. “Convince Loreius to fix my wheel,” he told her. “Do that, and poor Cicero will reward you. With coin! Gleamy, shiny coin!”

Sabi smiled. She didn't need the money.

“I don't need your gold,” she replied. “I just want to help you out. No charge.”

Cicero frowned, tilting his head as if confused.

“But Cicero insists,” he said. His expression quickly changed from confused to predatory and suddenly he was towering over her. “If not coin…” His voice dropped low causing the girl to shiver. “Perhaps something of a more bestial nature.”

 Sabi moved back quickly, her face heated from blush. She was use to harmless flirting that she endured from Kharjo, but he had never been so blatant as the man who stood before her. It was so indecent. Not thinking of the consequences, Sabi reared back and slapped him firmly across the cheek.

“Touch me, fool, and I'll send your soul to Sithis,” she hissed. An empty threat, of course. The only thing Sabi ever killed were animals and a bottle of Skooma. Also she didn't worship the Dread Lord, or any god for that matter, but her mother had and so she kept the traditions Baset had taught her close to her heart.

She moved further away from the jester, suddenly feeling a bit worried about how he would react. He had been taken aback when she slapped him but slowly he had begun to smile before laughter bubbled up from him. Genuine laughter.

“Oh, Kitten,” he said, still chuckling, “you'll make me fall for you with such sweet words.” 

Sabi stared at him, unsure of how to react. Cicero was clearly insane and dangerous. All of her instincts were telling her to turn tail and run, but there was something about him. Something almost familiar and dare she say...comforting? She took a deep breath, steadying herself. It didn't matter. She had offered to help him and she would follow through.

“I...I'm…,” Sabi cursed her stuttering. “I'm going to go speak to Loreius.”

Cicero’s smile didn't waver but he did step back, putting a respectful distance between them. Sabi nodded curtly before turning on her heel and heading in the direction of the farm. As she passed by the wagon though she felt a strange energy emanating from the crate, and as she headed up the path it seemed to follow her. It was odd but almost soothing. Sabi tried to shake it off but it stayed, penetrating her entire body.

_My child…_

Sabi froze.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch! Don't think Cicero was expecting that. How will he react? You shall have to wait and see! But honestly, thank you for sticking with me so far. I hope I don't disappoint. As always I ask that you please leave a comment. I really want to know what you guys think and as an incentive the first person to comment will get a special mention at the beginning of the next chapter. Thanks guys!


	4. A Little Favor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I want to start by apologizing. I've had this chapter done for a little while but haven't had a chance to post it. Really hope the wait was worth it  
> Also there is a little Ta'agra (Khajiit language) in this chapter but don't worry. The translations will be in the notes at the end.  
> Hope you enjoy!

 Sabi yawned.The rhythmic swaying of her horse was nearly putting her to sleep. Not that she would allow herself to doze off. Not after the fiasco that had happened outside of Whiterun.

* * *

  _Sabi froze. That voice. That damned voice! She was sure she had silenced it for good after her last skooma binge. But no, it was back, stronger and louder than ever. But why?_

_She turned to peek over her shoulder. Cicero had his back to her and hadn't noticed her predicament. The Khajiit turned her gaze to the massive crate strapped to the wagon. The strange energy that had wrapped around her like a cloak was coming from that crate._

_Sabi’s stomach dropped and she gulped. The coffin inside that crate did not belong to a mere woman. No. It was her. The owner of the voice that had tortured Sabi almost her whole life. The Night Mother!_

_Her attention returned to Cicero, who was thankfully still distracted, and she swallowed as another revelation hit her. The Imperial was not some half-crazed merryman. He was an assassin. Andd worse, more likely than not, he was The Keeper. No other would be allowed to transport the Brotherhood’s Unholy Matron._

_A million questions raced through Sabi's mind but she knew that the only one that mattered was what in Oblivion was she going to do now? She'd promised the man her help but how could she possibly assist him now, knowing what he was? No! She had to do something, stop him, get rid of him somehow. He was dangerous and she couldn't risk him discovering her secret._

_Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Sabi began to make her way up the path towards the farm. She would speak to the farmer, to Loreius. Perhaps he would have an idea on what to do about the mad jester._

* * *

  The young Khajiit shuddered at the memory. Speaking to Loreius really had not helped her situation. After rather rudely accusing her of being the jester’s accomplice, the only plan he'd come up with was to alert the nearby guard. Not exactly subtle but Sabi didn't have any ideas of her own. So she had hurried off, finding the nearest watchman and pointed him in Cicero's direction.

She had hoped that was the end of it, but no. After speaking to him, the oaf had grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her behind him as he went to confront the Imperial. It had just been downhill from there.

She could still hear the jester shouting after her, swearing revenge, then cackling like a mad man as she fled in the opposite direction. Thus the reason she had not slept in two days. If she hadn't been worried about over-exerting her mount, Sabi doubted she would have stopped for a rest at all. Still she had managed to make the three day ride to Riften in two.

Rajhin huffed below her, stirring the girl from her troublesome thoughts. She smiled. The stallion could be quite stubborn but Sabi was quickly becoming fond of her new companion. She patted his broad neck before ruffling his chestnut fur.

“I know, I know,” she told him. “We're almost there, and I promise once we get to Riften I’ll buy lots of carrots and maybe even some sugar cubes.”

Rajhin just snorted causing Sabi to giggle a little. She was finally starting to relax, intent on putting the whole mess behind her. She glanced up the road, smiling, her mood brightening considerably when she spotted a group of familiar tents just outside the city gates. The caravan was back. And more importantly, _he_ was back.

Sabi felt almost giddy as she approached the mass of tents. She could hear the sounds of laughter and singing, She could smell the delicious scent of venison cooking over the fire, making her mouth water. Eagerly she hopped off her mount, patting Rajhin affectionately, before entering the caravan. There were only three individuals sitting around the campfire, all of which greeted her enthusiastically, but her attention immediately settled on him.

 _Kharjo_.

“Dras’kay Sabi,” he greeted warmly. “Rik vara jer?”

She grinned, stepping smoothly around him to sit at his side.

“Ahziss va do,” she responded brightly. “An jer?”

Kharjo grinned, pleased.

“Ahziss ko vaba saa'do ike serush oriit ko petanith ahziss shabar ahziss taguj,” he purred and Sabi blushed.

“Pervert,” she accused. The male Khajiit just chuckled, ears flickering in amusement.

“Kharjo is pleased,” he told her. “Sabi is learning the language of her people so well. Soon you will be just as fluent as this one.”

Sabi felt herself blush, feeling slightly embarrassed. The others laughed at her shyness causing her to pout. The girl huffed in annoyance before reaching for her coin pouch, heavy with septims. She held it up before the other's eyes, grinning widely as they stared greedily.

“As much as I would love to stay and chat,” she told them, jingling the pouch and watching how their eyes followed the movement, “I have over 400 septims that are just begging to get spent. I don't suppose you could help me out?”

Kharjo’s ears perked up at this and he grinned. He stood quickly, offering his hand to help her up which she took gratefully. The older Khajiit led her through the collective of tents until they reached his. He ducked inside briefly, returning with two large, blue glass bottles. Just the sight of them had her feeling a bit giddy.

“Extra strong, just how you like them,” Kharjo told her as she handed him some coin, her pouch now considerably lighter.

“Thank you my friend,” Sabi replied, taking the bottles from him.

“Anything for my favorite customer,” he purred. Sabi rolled her eyes. Kharjo always flirted with her but it was harmless. And she had to admit that there were times being around him gave her butterflies. Having his attention was nice, but it also served a purpose. The best skooma money could buy.

She grinned up at him briefly before turning to walk away.

“Well, I’d best be off,” she told him. “Things to do, errands to run, people to annoy.”

“My dear Sabi, when are you going to stop frolicking about amongst the men and mer and join me in traveling across the land?”

“When Oblivion freezes over,” she responded, chuckling.

“You wound me,” he called out.

“You’ll survive,” she giggled exiting the camp, waving goodbye to him over her shoulder.

Returning to her mount, Sabi placed the two bottles into her saddle bag but not before taking a small swig of the delectable liquid. The sweet flavor of Skooma flooded her senses and she sighed contentedly. Having been a Skooma user for so many years it took more than just a sip for Sabi to feel the euphoric effects of the drug, but it soothed the aches of her body and quieted her mind. It also left her feeling pleasantly warm.

Replacing the cork, the young Khajiit returned the bottle to her saddlebag. She patted Rajhin affectionately, promising once more to bring him a treat when she returned, before heading towards the city gates.

Ah, Riften. The home of thieves, cut-throats, and the infamous Blackbriar clan. It was filthy, the scent of fish and stagnant water hung heavily in the air. Not to mention the citizens that occupied the city, most of whom disliked outsiders such as Sabi. That was fine with her though, she didn't care for them either. In fact, the only person Sabi tolerated at all was Constance, who worked in Honorhall Orphanage. They had been tentative friends ever since the day she'd convinced Sabi her sneaky talents were better suited for hunting rather than thievery. Also the woman was very good to the children there, despite the cruelty of the headmistress Grelod.

Oh how she despised that wretched old hag. Although she herself had not ever lived in the orphanage, Sabi had heard plenty of stories. All of which had been confirmed by Constance herself. That was her only problem with Constance. The woman never stood up to or stopped Grelod and it drove the Khajiit crazy. Sabi had a soft spot for children, especially orphans.

Just then, as if summoned by Sabi's thoughts, Constance appeared through the market crowd. She looked quite distressed. Her eyes were red and there were dark circles under them, as though she had not slept. Concerned, Sabi made a beeline for her, curious as to what could possibly have her so upset.

“Constance!” Sabi yelled, trying to get the older woman's attention. The imperial looked up, noticing the Khajiit approaching, and she sighed.

“Sabi, it's good to see you again,” Constance greeted her. “I’m sorry but I really don't have time to chat right now.”

“What's going on?” The girl asked. “Obviously something is wrong. What happened?”

Constance stopped, pinching the bridge of her nose and letting out a deep sigh. Then she grabbed Sabi's arm and pulled her into a nearby alley so that they could avoid any inquisitive onlookers. Sabi followed, baffled, and a little worried.

“I really shouldn't be telling you this,” the older woman began, “ but it's already part of local gossip, so you might as well hear it from me. One of the children, Aventus Aretino, is missing. He ran away almost 2 weeks ago. No one else seems to care but I’m worried sick. Especially with these rumors that have been popping up.”

Sabi shook her head, feeling confused and a bit irritated. How does a child run away with no one noticing? No, Sabi wasn't convinced. Grelod had to have something to do with it. The old woman had been known to deal with slave traders on occasion. Sabi wouldn't put her selling the boy off out of the realm of possibility.

“I really hate to ask this,” Constance continued snapping Sabi from her troubled thoughts, “but do you think you could find him?”

“Do I look like search and rescue?” Sabi scoffed.

“But you're a hunter,” the imperial insisted.

“Yes, of animals,” the girl reminded her. “Not for kids. Besides I wouldn't have a clue where to start.”

“He’s from Windhelm,” Constance told her. “That's where he'll be.”

“Assuming he didn't get eaten by wolves, mauled by bears, torn apart by sabertooths, or smashed by frost trolls,” Sabi nearly shouted, feeling frustrated. “Not to mention the numerous amount of other dangers he could have encountered on the way. Besides, I don't hunt that far north.”

Constance looked down at the ground guiltily and Sabi groaned. Obviously there was more to this than she'd let on. Wonderful. Sabi couldn't wait to hear the rest of it. She waited expectantly, her bobbed tail flickering in annoyance.

“There's been a rumor circling around,” the woman began softly. “That there's a boy, holed up in the old Aretino house, trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood in Windhelm. That's how I am certain he's alive.”

Sabi's blood ran cold. The Dark Brotherhood? Again? She'd just narrowly avoided one of their members, she wasn't in a hurry to cross paths with them again. But then again, it could be very dangerous for the boy if he did manage to summon them but not have the coin to pay. Doubtful they would even bother answering him, but better safe than sorry.

Sabi sighed dramatically. She couldn't believe she was even considering this. She better get a good reward out of it.

“Fine,” Sabi grumbled. “On one condition. I am going to have a little chat with Grelod before I leave.”

“With Grelod? Why? She doesn't have anything to do with this.”

“Talos’ ass she doesn't,” Sabi snapped. “Why else would that boy run? Who do think he wants to put a contract out on? Zuub!”

Constance eyes widened in panic. Sabi wasn't surprised she hadn't put the two together yet. She liked Constance, she really did, but at times she could be incredibly dense.

Sabi sighed again and shook her head. Trying to get the imperial to understand would be pointless. That was fine though, Sabi would confront Grelod herself. Someone needed to set that old witch straight. She turned and began heading in the direction of Honorhall.

“Wait!” Constance called after her. “Where are you going?” Sabi didn't stop, merely called over her shoulder.

“I’m going to go see a man about a dog.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Sorry if it was a little short. I hope everyone likes it so far. If you do, please leave a comment. I would love to know what everyone thinks. Thank you and see you soon!
> 
> Ta'agra translations  
> Dras’kay Sabi - Hello Sabi  
> Rik vara jer - How are you  
> Ahziss va do- I am well  
> An jer - And you  
> Ahziss ko vaba saa'do ike jer ko petanith ahziss shabar ahziss taguj - I would be better if you would join me in my bed  
> Zuub - Fuck!


End file.
